


A Dream of Water

by nyoka



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bath Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Episode Tag, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Shiro (Voltron), Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyoka/pseuds/nyoka
Summary: It’s getting warmer in the bathroom, and Shiro plays with the collar of his uniform jacket. The steam filling the room is thick, soothing Shiro’s aches even before he sinks into the bath. Shiro feels spellbound for a moment, watching the easy way Keith sits on the rim of the tub, his long legs sprawled out, wisps of wet dark hair slicked across his forehead. This is a little safety and sanctuary at the end of the world, even if it is finite....(It’s Shiro’s first time in a bathtub in more than three years. Keith finds a way to make it memorable.)





	A Dream of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Soft Sheith, indulgent, feel-good bath porn. Coda of sorts to S7E9.

 

 

~

 

 

Shiro slips into his new temporary quarters, keeping the lights off as he settles down onto the bed. Barely a day back on Earth, and there’s still so much they don’t know, so much left to figure out about Sendak’s endgame, and he knows it’s going to be an uphill battle convincing Admiral Sanda and the other Garrison leaders that he and the paladins need to be listened to.

Shiro attempts to ease the strain out of his body — breathes out, breathes in, steadiness himself. Lets the stress of the day slip off of him. He runs a hand over his right shoulder, massaging into the tender flesh of the aching muscle. He’s still getting use to the odd sensation of his missing prosthetic, the strange, conflicting feelings of weightiness and weightlessness that fill in the place of the ghost limb. 

But at least he’s feeling something, Shiro appreciates that much. The soft, bone-deep ache in his shoulder blade means he’s a little more settled into this new body, the reality of which still leaves him breathless at moments. _He’s back. He’s alive. Keith saved him._

Shiro swallows against the wave of intense emotion threatening to bubble up. Breathing in and out, steady, steady, _steady_. He seeks out the calm, collected, controlled space inside of him, that which centers him. He’s been trying his best to remain relaxed and focused all day, given all that is left to do, an entire planet still to save. He’s also been trying not to dwell too much on his time in the Black Lion’s infinite void, not wanting to think about the fear and loneliness that were his constant companions, trying not to remember what it felt like to be without his team. Thinking about any of it makes him feel like he’s back there, adrift, trapped, lost, useless to help them.

Shiro’s attempts at meditation are interrupted by the sound of his door sliding open. He looks up and lets out a relieved sigh, not surprised to see Keith standing in the door of his quarters, arms folded across his chest, his lean body lit up by the fluorescent glow from the hallway. 

“Hey Keith,” Shiro says softly, feeling himself calm down even further; he knows he can’t help the smile sliding across his face.

“Hey Shiro,” Keith says, offering him a soft smile in turn before looking around the room and adding, “Just sitting here in the dark?” His stance relaxes as he leans against the doorframe, but an eyebrow quirks up as he continues with, “I thought you would have had enough of waiting around in the dark to last a lifetime.”

“Guess I’m not quite use to the light yet,” Shiro says, laughing softly as he finds a switch to turn on the bedside lamp. The resulting amber light is soft and dim, giving the small room an otherworldly glow. After a beat, Shiro admits on a low voice, “Honestly, I think I just needed a little quiet after that last meeting with Admiral Sanda.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Keith grunts his agreement, stepping fully inside the room and letting the door slide shut behind him with a soft whoosh. “At least we have some time before we have to argue with anyone again.” They’d been given the evening off, with plans to regroup in the morning to meet with the Garrison leadership again to discuss action plans. 

Shiro nods, exhaling a deep breath. “It feels weird to have even an hour of downtime right now,” he admits. 

“It feels _weird_ being back,” Keith says, and Shiro agrees — it does. They’re back, but everything is different, everything about Earth is forever changed by the actions of the Galra Empire. Including the two of them.

Feeling himself tense up again at the thought, Shiro brings his hand up to his neck, works out a kink there. The movement has Keith turning a critical eye on him, and Shiro’s not surprised when Keith asks, “How are you feeling? _Really_?”

“I’m better,” Shiro tells him. And he’s being honest. He feels stronger, steadier, even if it took him a while to find his balance during their trip back to Earth.

Keith squints, a hint of disbelief evident in the way he settles himself in front of Shiro. Shiro just smiles up at him and holds out his hand, which Keith takes, allowing himself to be pulled into the vee of Shiro’s thighs. Shiro’s momentarily distracted by the new sharp way the Garrison’s uniform fits around Keith’s slightly larger frame. This Keith — older, wiser, a Blade, and a Paladin — is filling out the old Garrison uniform in new ways, his lean muscles pressing into the fabric. When Shiro slides his hand around Keith’s waist, he feels the tense muscles slide beneath. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, obviously trying to gain his attention again. 

Shiro tilts his head away from examining the soft cut of fabric against Keith’s thigh and looks up at Keith’s face, meets his worried eyes. “Yeah?” 

“Is your shoulder bothering you still?” Keith asks, brow creasing in evident concern, and Shiro has the urge to push away the dark curtain of hair that hangs in his face.

“It’s not bad,” Shiro says. He really doesn’t want Keith to worry. His body is just adjusting, and some pain is to be expected, after everything. Tomorrow they’ll try the procedure to attach the new prosthetic Allura found. Tonight he just needs to center himself, prepare for whatever happens. 

“I’m sorry I had to take it,” Keith whispers as he touches Shiro’s right shoulder gently. There’s a soft, wounded look in his eyes.

Shiro pulls him closer, knows Keith is probably remembering that moment, the terror and fear of it. “Don’t apologize. I was… _my clone was_ …trying to kill you. It was a damn smart and instinctive move to separate him from the arm. You did good, Keith.”

“Okay, but…” Keith starts, his frown deepening as his words die out. He doesn’t continue, just folds himself closer to Shiro. They haven’t really talked a lot about what happened; they haven’t really had much time by themselves to decompress between the trip back to Earth and the preparations for battle on Earth. For Shiro, day after day has been a constant negotiation of just remembering what it is to even be in a body — to be alive and real and breathing.

“I’m okay,” Shiro tells him again, but he sucks in a shaky breath as Keith applies gentle pressure to the stiff muscle of his right shoulder blade, Keith’s familiar touch the one earthly thing Shiro missed almost as much as he missed life itself.

“Good?” Keith asks softly, his hand massaging deeper into Shiro’s shoulder, all while keeping his eyes fixed on Shiro’s face, likely trying to read his body’s response. 

Shiro feels his skin heat up with the attention, the affection in it, and he looks away, flushing. Keith always sees way too much anyway, can read Shiro like no one else. “It feels good, Keith,” he admits, honest, when he’s able to get himself under control. How can one touch make him feel so undone? He gazes up at Keith again with a thankful smile. For a moment he gets lost in the soft violet of his eyes, gleaming so bright in the dim light of the room. Shiro’s slightly breathless when he adds, “You always feel good.”

Keith’s free hand comes up and cups Shiro’s cheek. Shiro inhales softly, that something inside of him welling up again, a flood of warmth and tenderness that threatens to drown him. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, not sure what’s right to say in this moment anyway. It’s just them, finally, together. They’re back on Earth, but everything’s changed.

“What is it?” Keith asks, fingers softly stroking Shiro’s cheek, his eyes gone curious again. 

“Nothing,” Shiro says, shaking his head, feeling silly enough to look away, toward the closed door. “I just missed…this.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, and he sounds surprised. 

Shiro tilts his head up and looks back at Keith, hoping everything he can’t say is visible. “I missed you, Keith.”

Keith’s answering smile is slow, shy, and so damn beautiful. “Missed you too, Shiro,” he says, his voice rough and low. He runs his fingers through Shiro’s hair, and Shiro’s heart beats a little faster at the touch. 

Shiro closes his eyes, tries to slow his rushing blood as Keith slides his fingers down to Shiro’s mouth, trails them across his lips, following the curve of his smile. Shiro doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing these days, what the hell they’re doing together, or how they’re going to save Earth, but right now, Keith’s looking at him like this, and it’s…everything, everything, everything. Shiro moves his forehead to rest against Keith’s chest, and Keith curls his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, holding him tight. They stay like that for a long while, breathing into the silence of the room. 

It’s been an incredibly long couple of years. Sometimes Shiro still feels like he’s drifting, untethered, lost in the abyss. But touching Keith somehow anchors him to the here and now, makes him feel found again. Maybe everything is different, but maybe, just maybe, there are some things that still remain. Like this intense connection he’s always had with Keith, deep in his blood and his bones, and deeper still in his heart. 

Shiro shakes a little in Keith’s arms. The tension he’d been holding onto most of the day slowly draining out of him. Keith’s arms around him feel like their own kind of safety net. With Keith, Shiro always could be himself, imperfections and all. Shiro always knew where he stood with Keith, and maybe even more importantly, where he belonged. 

Keith rests his hand against the back of Shiro’s neck, fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. His voice is pitched low when he says, “I know it’s been a hard day. Seeing what happened in our absence, the people we lost. The world we lost.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees, throat clogging up as he thinks about Adam, all the things he’d left unsaid to him. He thinks about all of the Garrison soldiers lost to the fight, all the families separated and imprisoned, all the destruction that exists outside of the base’s protective particle barrier. They’ve lost so many people, and the world they once knew is almost completely lost to them. And somehow the Lions and the Garrison are the last beacons of hope. Shiro believes in them, knows they have it in them to win this war, even if the fight ahead seems almost impossible now. He knows that he and the paladins will do everything in their power to defeat Sendak’s army. Shiro leans against Keith, breathes deeply, lets that truth sink in. They can win this.

“Hey,” Keith whispers after a few minutes of silence. “I have an idea to help with the pain.”

“I'm fine,” Shiro muffles into Keith’s chest. He shakes his head as he looks back up at Keith. “You’re here, this is good.”

“But you’ll like this idea too,” Keith says and leans down to plant a soft kiss on Shiro’s forehead. It’s simple, but it makes Shiro warm up anyway, especially as Keith pulls away from Shiro’s arms, with a sly glint to his eyes. “Give me ten minutes,” Keith says, stepping toward the door. 

“No, wait, come back,” Shiro says with a pout, reaching out to take Keith’s hand and tugging him back toward him. But Keith, dogged as always, manages to slide away.

“You’ll like this, I promise,” Keith assures, before he leans in to kiss Shiro’s lips, soft and open and teasing. “Wait here for me.”

Shiro releases Keith’s hand and sighs with a put-upon air as he leans back against the bed and Keith exists the room. Shiro closes his eyes and does his breathing techniques again, trying to find his place of balanced collectedness, but his heart is jackhammering in his chest, his skin is hot like a fever flush, and he’s thinking about the way Keith’s uniform pulled against his backside as he walked away, and the thoughts are making him flame up deep inside. Shiro feels like he’s thirteen again, with his first crush on a boy. He feels embarrassed, shy even. He’s never been good with this sort of thing (romantic relationships), but Keith makes him quiet, makes him feel balanced, makes him feel like there’s something worth waiting for at the end of all of this. So Shiro closes his eyes, waits.

 

~

 

“Where are you taking me?” Shiro asks twenty minutes later as Keith leads him by the hand down the winding hallways of the Garrison’s main dormitory complex.

Keith shrugs, smile a little coy as he says, “Patience, Shiro.”

Shiro grunts, but lets himself be willingly lead forward. After almost a decade at the Garrison, Shiro knows its layout like the back of his hand. The path they take is familiar, the hallways long and shadowed as they stretch past the dorm rooms, the workout room, the student lounge, the mess hall, and the shared showers. They nod to old and new faces as they pass them by, with most of the cadets and Garrison officers stopping to shake their hands, or pausing in their conversations to stare at them and whisper. The legend of who Shiro and Keith are already carries its own momentum around the base. 

Shiro likes that Keith doesn’t mind holding his hand through it all, tugging him along as he says, “Not much further.” 

With a sigh and a soft laugh, Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand gently, asking, “Really?”

Keith looks at him bemusedly, and finally offers, “We are going to what used to be Captain Kristof’s private quarters.” He then pulls Shiro down yet another hallway, this time toward the larger apartment quarters where some of the higher ranking officers and their families once lived. “I asked around, and apparently no one is occupying it these days.”

Shiro frowns in confusion, and asks, “But why are we going there?”

Keith meets his eyes and grins. Says pointedly, “If you had ever broken any rules during your time here as a cadet, you’d have known Cap’n Kristof had the most luxurious private bathroom in all of the Galaxy Garrison. And he was never around.”

Shiro blinks, surprised. “So Garrison cadets actually snuck in to use his bathroom?”

“His tub is huge,” Keith says, mouth twitching like he wants to laugh. 

“What —” Shiro starts, but pauses, distracted by their arrival at the desired location. Keith types a key code into the pad that opens the door, and Shiro follows him into a spacious living quarters that reminds Shiro of a larger version of the apartment he’d once shared with Adam. The space must have been unoccupied for a while; the book shelves are dusty and empty, and the living room’s furniture is covered in dingy white sheets. 

“So yeah,” Keith says, his arms opening wide to encompass the empty living space. “I thought you might like to relax for a minute. Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that…well, we don’t know what’s going to happen, right? Things will be crazy. But tonight…” He lets his words go quiet, shrugging. He turns to look toward the adjoining bathroom, and Shiro’s eyes follow. Light from the bathroom is slipping through the door into the living room. 

“Yeah, tonight,” Shiro says, nodding his understanding. They might just have tonight. He reaches out and puts his hand on Keith’s arm just under the elbow, and Keith smiles at him, motioning them forward toward the bathroom.

The private bathroom is large compared to other ones Shiro’s seen around the base — cool, white porcelain sinks with ornate brass fixtures, a marble-topped double basin, and smooth floor tiles, consisting of beautiful grey patterns against crisp white lines. There’s a large shower on one side of the room, but an even larger soaker bathtub on the other, which is already half-filled with hot water. Steam rises from it in lazy clouds, drifting up to fog the bathroom’s mirrors.

“Keith,” Shiro says, because _wow_. 

Keith leaves Shiro open-mouthed by the doorway, and he goes to take a seat on the rim of the bathtub. His attention turns to the faucet, which he twists on, allowing hot water to once again flow into the tub. The sound of pummeling water is thunderous in the quiet space of the bathroom, but soothing and familiar too, reminding Shiro of a childhood spent splashing around in a tin wash basin, his grandpa singing to him while he prepared Shiro’s baths. Later in his teenage years, warm baths had also been good for his muscle spasms, the pain from his illness debilitating at times during his first growth spurt. He would soak in long baths, drown out his body’s noise, pretend he was okay, that everything would be okay. 

This new body of Shiro’s doesn’t carry any of those old memories though. It doesn’t even carry the degenerative muscle disease that Shiro had spent so many years running from. But the memories still live on in Shiro, somewhere. And to that part of him, the warm moist air of the bathroom, the fogged-up mirrors, the sound of running water — all mean comfort. He likes the idea of pretending that everything is going to be alright, for a little while, with Keith. 

It’s getting warmer in the bathroom, and Shiro plays with the collar of his uniform jacket. The steam filling the room is thick, soothing Shiro’s aches even before he sinks into the bath. Shiro feels spellbound for a moment, watching the easy way Keith sits on the rim of the tub, his long legs sprawled out, wisps of wet dark hair slicked across his forehead. This is a little safety and sanctuary at the end of the world, even if it is finite.

When Keith turns off the water, he looks over at Shiro, and Shiro meets his eyes, not saying anything. They look at each other for a long time, weighted and heavy, and Shiro doesn’t want to stop looking at him, doesn’t want to stop this moment. But then Keith is padding across the floor to meet him, stepping right in front of Shiro, and Shiro can’t help but pull him in for a kiss, voicing all his thanks with his tongue, because words fail too often. Truth is, everything he needs to hear from Keith exists here in the tremble of his lips against Shiro’s own, the swirl of his tongue against his own, and in the feel of their teeth clacking together. Everything is so wet and moist and soft in the steamy bathroom, and Keith is kissing him like his whole life depends on it. Then he’s pushing Shiro up against the bathroom wall, his mouth so open and willing and sloppy for him, and damn, it’s been too long since the last time they kissed, too long, too long, too long.

Shiro pushes Keith, and Keith pushes him back, pushes and pushes, and soon enough they’re wrestling and giggling into each other’s mouths, Shiro’s one remaining hand tugging at the back of Keith’s uniform, seeking out the feel of his rippling back muscles, enjoying the fierceness of his warm body where they’re arched up against each other, pressed so close. Both of Keith’s hands grip Shiro’s waist like he’s riding this out to the very end. 

Shiro’s skin feels thin all over, and he shakes a little when Keith touches the back of his neck, just his fingertips, so very soft. 

“Hey,” Keith says when he breaks the kiss; his is breathless, his voice low, untethered.

“Hey,” Shiro returns with a soft, choked sound, his heart beating a fast rhythm against his chest.

Both of Keith’s hands come out to curl around Shiro’s face, his thumbs brushing at the moisture gathered on his cheeks. Were they both crying? Shiro doesn’t try to look away or hide the evidence of what Keith has made him feel; he doesn’t pull away, but he does close his eyes when he breathes out, “Thanks for this.” Keith’s lips press gently against Shiro’s forehead, then down to his mouth again, soft and lingering. 

“We should get to it then,” Keith says a moment later, sighing heavily into the space between them.

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees. 

Keith releases him, stepping back in order to begin to undress, casually working loose the buttons of his Garrison cadet uniform jacket. The overhead fluorescents in the bathroom almost feel too bright suddenly for the soft intimacy on display. With quiet efficiency, Keith pulls off his jacket, his undershirt, his pants, his shoes, socks, and underwear. He’s nude so quickly that Shiro has to do a double-take at the sudden flash of bare thighs and toned abs, the heavy weight of Keith’s cock surrounded by a dark patch of hair. 

Shiro’s eyes drink in the full image of Keith like this — the honey-gold spill of his skin, the perfect vee cut of his hipbones, the lean sprawl of his chest. His new height and musculature stand out in stark detail, all those hard lines and sharp angles sculpted from his time spent in the Quantum Abyss. Old silvery scars and new puckered pink ones cross the roadmap of his skin. To say that Keith is the most perfect thing Shiro’s seen in a long time is an understatement. 

Shiro stares at Keith and thinks about the dark expanse of space, the months of separation, the long journey home. He thinks about the first time they did this, getting naked together in the Castle of Lions after a hard mission, the rush and secret thrill of finally giving in after so long wanting each other. The fast and crazy rush of skin touching skin after so long without touch. The fear and the longing in every kiss. The memory of Keith stretched out on his bed, his soft cock curled against his thigh, his chest shaking with laughter or anticipation. Keith and all his wild animal beauty, looking at Shiro with love in his eyes. 

“You gonna keep looking or join me?” Keith teases him now, kicking the last of his clothing to the pile gathered at his feet.

Shiro chuckles, looking away from Keith and down at himself still fully dressed. He toes off his boots first and then slides out of his socks, and he’s working on loosening his belt buckle one-handed by the time a naked Keith walks over to him. Keith pushes Shiro’s hand out of the way, tsking and whispering “too damn slow.” With careful and precise movements, Keith finishes undressing Shiro, hands caressing over his bare skin.

They make their way toward the tub after that, with Keith stepping in first, sliding down and making space for Shiro between the spread of his open legs. Shiro grins, carefully stepping into the tub and letting himself sink down into the almost too-hot water, his movement sending the water rocking all around them. Behind him, Shiro feels Keith’s body slide into place against his own — so warm and so alive, Keith’s breath tickling at Shiro’s neck and his heart beating firmly against Shiro’s back. 

Eventually they settle down together, hugged by the porcelain curves of the tub, Shiro’s back against Keith’s chest. Shiro notices how careful Keith is not to jostle Shiro’s right shoulder and stump as he curls his arms around Shiro’s middle. The water comes up to their chests, and the heat of it is sleepily hypnotic, wisps of smoke curling up all around them. Their legs slide alongside each others. Not for the first time, Shiro is amazed at the size of the tub, wide enough to fit two grown men comfortably and long enough to allow their legs ample room to settle against the porcelain edge on the opposite side. 

The bathwater laps at his skin, and Shiro sighs blissfully, Keith’s arms tightening around him. It feels strange to let himself have this peace when the rest of the world is still suffering. A heavy guilt settles in his belly as he thinks about all there is still to do, all that would be needed from them in the days to come.

“Takashi, I need you to relax for me, okay?” Keith whispers against his neck, probably sensing the shift in Shiro’s body, mood. 

“I’m trying,” Shiro mumbles, sucking in a deep breath and letting himself lean further back against Keith.

“Try harder,” Keith orders softly, pressing a kiss between Shiro’s shoulder blades. “Focus on this,” he adds as his hands slide warm along Shiro’s shoulders, gentle and steadying, his touch familiar, loving. 

Shiro closes his eyes, tries to forget everything else. Surrounded by Keith, held in his arms, Shiro could fall asleep like this, with Keith breathing softly in his ear, and the water soothing his tired, knotted muscles. Shiro allows his head to loll back against Keith’s shoulder, and he feels Keith move around him, his hands rolling up and down Shiro’s torso, stroking down his hips, over his belly. Deft fingers dance over the scars across Shiro’s chest, before his right hand comes to rest over Shiro’s heart.

“I dreamed about this when I was stranded in space with the other paladins,” Keith says, voice low and heavy in the air. 

“Yeah?” Shiro says, twisting his head a bit so he can look at Keith over his shoulders. 

Keith smiles down at him. “We were lost out there and I thought we were going to die, or go crazy from space madness, and I wanted to give up. But there were times I thought if we could just survive, if I could just have one more moment with you, I’d…want this.”

“A bath?” Shiro teases, but he feels out of breath, overwhelmed by these words from the man behind him.

Keith snorts, sticks out his tongue and Shiro has the urge to bite at it, feeling playful. “No, not a bath,” Keith says on a huff. “I thought about…just being able to be alone with you and feeling safe. I thought about that a lot.”

Shiro moves his head sideways and up to kiss the side of Keith’s mouth, his motion sending water sloshing over the side of the tub. Keith wraps him in his arms and pulls him deeper under the water as they kiss, their bodies sliding slick together, their skin making soft sucking sounds. Keith’s lips fall softly over Shiro’s, and they kiss until they’re breathing hard, shaking. Shiro doesn’t push any further, not yet, just teases Keith with soft kisses and whispered promises. He’s feeling drunk on Keith, on the heat, on the intimacy of them together. 

“I dreamed about you a lot when I was in the infinite void,” Shiro confesses when they finally settle again, sitting up straighter in the tub so they can wash each other.

Keith hmms, shifting behind Shiro as he reaches for the body wash in the soap holder by the tub. The bottle is old, but when Keith squirts the gel in his palm, the scent still smells fresh — something coconuty. Keith rubs his palms together to work up a lather, then touches his hands to Shiro’s scalp, his long-fingered hands settling lightly there. 

“What did you dream?” Keith asks as he begins to work the soap through Shiro’s hair, laving the short strands and massaging deep. 

Keith’s hands feel amazing, and it’s a moment before Shiro is able to even reply. “Some of it was memories,” he says, trembling slightly as he recalls the soft collections of images that would filter through his consciousness during those long months. “But sometimes…it was impressions, feelings, images of things that my consciousness made up to pass the time. Dreams within dreams. You and me walking on a beach, you and me racing through the desert, you and me…touching.”

“You mean _fucking_?” Keith teases on a warm breath, fingers pausing in the soapy tangle of Shiro’s hair.

Shiro throws his head back so he can glance at Keith out of the corner of his eye and offer him a playful smile when he answers, “Maybe.”

Keith laughs softly at that, moving his soapy hands from Shiro’s scalp, down to his neck and shoulders. Shiro lets himself relax more, soaking up the feel of Keith’s hands, rubbing and massaging away every ache. Keith is spoiling him, and Shiro is thinking of all the ways he wants to spoil the other man right back. Maybe he can spend long moments drying him off after they get out of the tub, kissing and licking along the long, pale stretch of his inner thighs. Maybe suck him off until he’s crazy with it. Shiro smiles at the thought; he loves how Keith tastes. 

“What are you thinking right now?” Keith asks as Shiro drops his head back to allow Keith to pour water over his head, rinsing the soap away from his scalp, Keith’s fingers tracing lazy circles as he does it.

“Thinking about how I want to take care of you after this,” Shiro admits softly, turning his head to look at Keith. 

“I’d like that,” Keith relies, stroking the wet fringe back from Shiro’s forehead. He gives Shiro a soft, secretive smile, and Shiro’s heart skitter-stops for just a moment. Shiro is so lucky to have found Keith, and every time Keith smiles he's reminded of that fact. 

“I’m glad,” Shiro says, turning around to settle back into place, and he waits as Keith adds more of the gel to his palm and continues to wash Shiro, sliding soapy fingers carefully across Shiro’s left arm and right stub, and then laving across his back and chest, hands running smooth over new scars – some pink and new, some silver and faded. Haggar and her druids had managed to give this body much of the same scarring as Shiro’s own body, but there are new scars here that Shiro doesn’t remember, and he assumes they were gotten during the months his clone shared with his team. He has all those memories now too, and they’re confusing sometimes — Shiro knows his clone had loved his team, had loved Keith, and up until Haggar had taken over, he’d done his best to protect them. Shiro’s thankful for that, even as he’s angry at having his team threatened, his own life stolen. 

Shiro closes his eyes as Keith’s careful touch pulls him back to the current moment. _Touch_. Shiro had missed it so much. He’s practically vibrating as Keith slides his hands up his back, along his neck, pushing fingers into his hairline, massaging the tense muscles down his spine, caressing his lower back. Keith slides his hands over Shiro’s chest, flexes his fingers over his biceps before tweaking Shiro’s hard nipples, an action that sends Shiro arching back unexpectedly, shivering, strung tight.

“You were always so sensitive,” Keith teases on a heated chuckle, kissing along Shiro’s neck as he expertly works the taunt nubs between his thumb and forefinger. Heat zings through Shiro’s body, a straight line to his groin, and he’s nodding his agreement, making a soft whining noise when Keith slides his hands lower and lower, finally moving down below Shiro’s belly, his fingers twining in the nest of curls at the base of his cock. 

When Keith runs his palm along Shiro’s shaft, Shiro arches up again, sucks air between his teeth, and presses back into Keith. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the feel of Keith cupping his balls, Keith's fingers mapping the oversensitive skin before settling back on the base of his thickening cock. Keith’s hold is so solid, so protective.

“I got you,” Keith whispers into his ear. Shiro lets his head fall back on Keith’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He takes a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself, lifting his hips up to silently ask for more friction.

Keith begins to tug at Shiro’s length, stroking him long and slow while he twists his head to press his lips to the corner of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s lips part and open wide for him, and Keith kisses him gently, licking inside, careful, so careful as he snakes his tongue around. Shiro moans at the feel of Keith’s tongue, at the feel of Keith jacking him faster and faster. When Shiro jerks his hips forward he causes waves of water to rush up and down the bathtub.

“Feel good?” Keith asks, murmuring the words against Shiro’s lips. Keith’s hand pauses on Shiro’s cock in another soft hold as Shiro shudders against him. 

“I always feel good with you, Keith,” Shiro admits, because it’s true, and he’s kind of losing it because he can feel Keith’s own cock swelling against his ass.

“Yeah?” Keith asks, and his cheeks are flushed, his skin slick with water, and his damp hair is sticking up wildly. Shiro is so fucking gone for him. He allows himself one more quick kiss, and then he turns his face away and twists his hips slightly back just to feel the slide of Keith’s cock as it grazes the cleft of his ass. 

Keith seems to catch on then, pushing closer to Shiro and letting his cock nudge forward, slipping along the rim. “This what you want?”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes out, because he wants Keith so damn much he could cry. 

“It’s been a while,” Keith huffs out a breathy laugh, nipping at Shiro’s ear, then sucking it gently into his mouth. 

“Too long,” Shiro acknowledges with a groan. He can still recall the sharp desperation of their few times together before he died. In the days after Keith and the other paladins rescued him and they’d found the lions, he and Keith had begun to seek each other out during sleepless nights in the Castle of Lions. At first they were shy about what was between them, not sure of the newness of who they were after so much time apart. The both of them had grown up so much, and they had even mourned the other. Neither of them had been sure at first where their friendship ended and something else, deeper, began. But soft touches of comfort had turned into heated embraces and stolen kisses in the dark of the night, their hearts rioting as they pummeled through the dark recesses of space together. After so many battles, ramped up by adrenaline and manic energy, and the incessant need to be closer, to be more — they’d found each other again and again. 

In that time, they’d grown to be the closest they’ve ever been, pushing away all the remaining barriers between them, and the memory of them like that comes back to him now. Sitting here with Keith, naked with him again, Shiro soaks in the deep intimacy of this moment. Shiro was never good with this aspect of his life, with being so open with another person, so free with them. With anyone else right now it would probably feel too much, he’d feel too vulnerable allowing someone to see so much of him, especially after everything that’s happened. He’s still so broken, even though he tries his best not to let the world see any of it. But with Keith it feels natural to just be with him like this. Like this is the only way they’re meant to be with each other. Naked, honest.

The water sloshes around them as Keith levers himself slightly out of the tub to pull a bottle from a bag on the floor beside the tub that Shiro hadn’t paid any attention to. Apparently Keith had come prepared because the next moment he’s scooting back into position behind Shiro and showing off the small pink bottle. “Waterproof lube.”

“Really?” Shiro huffs out a surprised laugh, leaning further back into Keith, pleased at his forethought. “You were hoping to get lucky tonight?”

“Well, I’d planned on seducing you with a hot bath and massage,” Keith drawls out lazily. “And then fucking you to sleep. So yes, very lucky.”

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro admonishes softly, and he can’t help the warm, needy growl that rumbles from the back of his throat at the feel of Keith’s hard cock settling into place between his cheeks.

The sound of Keith squeezing lubricant into his palms sends Shiro’s pulse racing. For a moment Shiro questions the logistics of this next activity, but then Keith wraps one arm around Shiro’s chest, and slips his other arm down into the water, landing it under Shiro’s ass without worry or doubt. 

Shiro arches up instinctively, because holy shit, this is happening now, and he’s lifting his hips backward to give Keith easy access to the warm, soapy space below. Keith slips lube-slick fingers against Shiro’s rim, and even though Shiro’s expecting it, the first press of Keith’s finger inside of him still sends him gasping and jerking forward, his left hand grabbing the rim of the tub for balance. Lukewarm suds slosh over the tub’s edge, splashing the floor below.

Keith manages to hold Shiro even tighter and lifts him up slightly higher, and Shiro thinks this must be all that Galra strength put to good use. Shiro leans back even further as Keith presses sweet kisses against his shoulder, working his finger deeper inside of Shiro, then easing in another. Shiro groans out Keith’s name at the building pleasure and soft burn that comes with Keith breaching the tight ring of muscle. It’s been so long, and Shiro’s missed Keith so much. In fact Shiro wants to be closer, wants to feel more of Keith inside of him, can’t hold it back anymore. So Shiro pushes his ass back onto Keith’s fingers, as Keith strokes in and out, never giving quite enough.

“Patience, Shiro,” Keith whispers, a cocky tease to his words. He pulls out and Shiro chokes out a devastated groan, but soon realizes that Keith is simply adding more gel to his palm, covering his fingers first and then his rock-hard cock.

“Hurry, Keith,” Shiro stutters out, then gasps out a shaky, excited moan when Keith slicks back inside him, pushing in deeper, three fingers in total now. He crooks them in such a way that Shiro’s left keening, gripping the rim of the tub and squeezing his eyes shut as everything inside of him erupts with pleasure. _God, yes, please_. 

“I gotcha,” Keith mumbles, rubbing gently at Shiro’s chest as he eases his fingers out and presses his cock against Shiro’s entrance. “I’m gonna fuck you now,” he promises, and Shiro manages a feeble nod of agreement, bracing his one hand on the side of the tub again and lifting out of the water far enough to let Keith angle his body just right so that the head of his cock can breach him. 

Shiro bends his knees and places his feet flat against the bottom of the tub to give Keith more leverage. He shudders, breathing in through his mouth as his body opens up around Keith. He’s shaking and he thinks Keith is shaking too as Keith pushes in — _so agonizingly slow_ — as the two of them begin to move together, slick and hot.

“Fuck, so freaking tight,” Keith groans out, and both of his hands grip tighter around Shiro’s hips as he guides him even further down onto his cock. Keith’s body stills when he’s fully sheathed inside of Shiro. They rest for a moment, both breathing heavy into the silence. 

Shiro feels full and fully out of his mind. _Yes, yes, this, he thinks, please, please_. It’s so much of everything at once, the heat of this moment searing him, like being inside of an exploding star. It’s so damn good, skin to skin, with all the sensations overlapping — Keith hot and heavy inside of him, filling him up; Keith’s chest pressed against Shiro’s back, so smooth and wet. The two of them surrounded by the cooling embrace of the water. The way Keith digs his fingers into Shiro’s hips and bites at the back of Shiro’s neck. 

And then everything starts moving — Keith slides out a bit and then thrusts deeper, and Shiro moans at the feel, his eyes falling shut. He relaxes his body enough to take Keith in again and again, always ready to let him in. He’s wanting to feel it all, wanting to feel _real_ again, wanting Keith so much he can taste the potency of his own desire. Shiro sucks in an unsteady breath as Keith sets a rhythm of shallow thrusts and deeper dives that devastates. 

Shiro is drifting now on the simple pleasure of their union, the incredible feel of Keith inside of him as his pace quickens, setting every nerve ending in Shiro’s body on fire. The low, building thrum of Shiro’s own need almost shocks him, and for a time he doesn’t even remember how they got here, why the hell they hadn’t been doing this all along. All he knows is Keith is filling him so completely, gripping his hips so hard that Shiro knows he’ll have bruises come morning. He doesn’t mind it, wants them actually. Held and surrounded by Keith — his touch, his love, his endless devotion. He wants to remember this.

Keith’s thrusts get wilder, faster, Shiro throws his head back and rides him harder, mouth parting in small gasps of wordless pleasure. They’re moving so fast now, jerking up and down so furiously that the bath water laps up all around them, like waves roiling in some kind of stormy sea. Keith is shouting his name, and Shiro is crying out with his entire body, finally giving in and letting Keith take most of his weight so that he can wrap a hand around his own cock, stripping it once, twice before he’s coming hot and thick into the water. 

In the rush of Shiro’s climax, the world goes blurry and white, spun dizzily around, and it feels like Shiro’s letting everything go out with this single epic release — everything that’s been worrying him for days, weeks, years even. Zarkon and Haggar and Lotor and Sendak and their endless campaign of terror. Shiro’s hidden fear of not being good enough to pilot Black after everything he’d done to survive; his anxieties of failing his team again; the fear of failing Keith. Nightmares of being lost in space, alone and forgotten. 

In the place of those thoughts Shiro thinks of Keith instead — he remembers the two of them before Kerberos, before the war. Nights spent out on the Garrison’s desert plateau, riding their hoverbikes under an infinite starlit sky. They’d test each other on their knowledge of the star systems, on physics, on their flight prep routine. They would curl warm against each other’s sides, eat chips stolen from the mess hall, talk about anything, everything, nothing. It’d been nice and easy, two boys without a family finding one in each other under the stars. Best friends, brothers. 

Their relationship has evolved since then, and they’re more to each other these days than Shiro can even name. Even now, in its pure physical form — the frenetic rocking of Keith’s hips, his slow slide into Shiro’s heat — it’s nothing Shiro has a name for. The way Keith slides his arm so protectively around Shiro and holds him close and presses his face right where it fits in the curve of Shiro’s neck, kissing and licking there, whispering, “ _Shiro, oh god_.” 

For an instant, Shiro feels like he’s falling again, through space, time, and memory, and he grabs for Keith’s arm, holding it around his waist like a lifeline. Keith rears back and pulls Shiro with him, supporting him as Shiro slides down hard, jamming down onto the fat head of his cock, feeling it shove even deeper into him, so fucking huge and swelling even bigger as Keith’s orgasm erupts around them. 

Seconds later Keith’s thrusting up one last time, spilling spectacularly inside of Shiro. Keith moans a broken, sobbing sort of sound into Shiro’s neck, his entire body rocked through with aftershocks. Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s chest, presses gentle kisses against Shiro’s right shoulder. Shiro settles his arm around Keith’s arms. They stay like that for a long time, sagging against each other, just breathing in and out until they are both steady.

“You okay?” Keith asks, voice raw and broken wide open. His hand soothes over Shiro’s belly, soft and calming. 

“So very okay,” Shiro breathes out, and he closes his eyes, lost in the rapid beat of Keith’s heart against his back. He smiles a little when Keith slowly pulls himself out, his ejaculate slipping against Shiro’s sensitive hole.

They’re quiet as they clumsily rearrange their exhausted bodies in the tub, this time facing each other. They are shivering now in the much cooler water, their flesh gone goose-pimpled, the pads of their fingers wrinkled from soaking for so long. Shiro places his hand around Keith’s cheek and leans in to kiss Keith full and deep, sucking the taste of coconuty soap from his lips. He’s looking forward to cleaning Keith up later, memorizing every new curve of his strong body.

“Love you to the moon and back,” Shiro whispers against the corner of Keith’s mouth, chuckling softly at his own cheesiness. 

“Love you to the ends of the universe,” Keith murmurs just as cheesy, then deepens the kiss.

They had promised each other tonight. And there’s so much more to do, so much more to be to each other. A war to win, a world to free. But for now, they kiss until they’re both shivering and cold, the bath forgotten, the world so very far away.

 

 

\- fin -

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written fannishly in 5 years, so comments and feedback are so very much appreciated. Thank you for reading. You can find me and my Sheith lovin [here](https://patienceyields.tumblr.com).


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